Glasses
by PhantomWriterAnon
Summary: Jane/Lisbon. Jisbon. Lisbon was the only one that Jane trusted enough to share his weakness - his failing eyesight. That is, of course, until an accident allows Jane the chance to see himself through someone else's eyes. Post 7X13. One-Shot. Please Review!


"Do you look at the world through rose colored glasses? I crushed mine so I could see the truth."

* * *

Jane had worn contact lenses since he could remember. The minute the doctor had shown him what would have been his glasses - thick, black plastic frames with lenses at least a quarter of an inch thick - he'd taken the lesser of two evils. The hard lenses might've been uncomfortable at times, but to Jane, they were infinitely better than the alternative. And when they'd finally developed soft lenses that could match his prescription, well... all the better.

Lisbon was the only one he trusted with the knowledge of his poor (and continually fading) eyesight, and her reaction - or rather, lack thereof - had surprised him. She'd had that little not-quite-smile that she got when she figured out something that Jane himself had not noticed, and proclaimed that the signs had been fairly obvious and any trained detective worth their salt would've noticed. He was pretty sure she was joking. At least, he hoped she was.

Jane didn't like to think that he was a particularly vain man. He knew that he was physically appealing to the other sex, that women considered him charming (if not a tad concieted) and practically melted when he smiled. And women tended to percieve men with glasses as more educated and more intelligent than their counterparts - in other words, there was absolutely no reason for him to _not_ wear glasses because really, they wouldn't change a thing. Except that they would.

"Shit!" Jane winced as he finally freed his eye of the ruined contact. The white of his eye was a bright, almost radioactive red, and tears were rapidly streaming down his cheek as the pain began to register in earnest. After three failed attempts at inserting the contact, he'd managed to burn his eye.

"Are you okay? I heard you yell and -," the door to the bathroom burst open and Lisbon charged in, half-dressed and frazzled. Under normal circumstances, seeing his wife so out of sorts would've brought a teasing smile to his lips - but right now, he just frantically began motioning for the eye wash.

With fumbling hands, Teresa managed to grab hold of the bottle and pass it to him. He'd emptied half of the bottle's contents onto his eye before he could breathe a sigh of relief. "That... had to be the worst... physical pain I've felt... in my life." He forced out between hurried breaths.

Lisbon frowned, "What the hell happened?"

Jane shrugged, before wetting a washcloth with ice cold water and pressing it against his eye. "Just a fluke. But I won't be trying to put another one in this morning, that's for sure."

"You mean you're actually going to wear your glasses?" The amusement, with just a hint of astonishment, was clear in her tone.

Another shrug, "I might as well make good on the fact that I get the prescription tweaked every year."

Still putting pressure on his aching eye, he reached into the medicine cabinet and pulled out a soft eyeglass case. He pulled out the sleek, black frame, and after a moment of careful consideration, slipped them on. A critical once-over in the mirror revealed an unfamiliar man. The stark black of the frame really made the bluish-gray of his eyes _pop_ , and it thinned out the borderline roundness of his face. But it also highlighted the crow's feet beside his eyes, and the impressive bags underneath them.

He forced a smile, making a show of adjusting the spectacles for Teresa. "Well?"

"I don't understand why you don't wear them more often." She smiled softly, leaning in to plant a kiss on her husband's nose. "I think they suit you."

Jane pouted, "I hate them."

"I know you do." There was a teasing gleam in her eye, "But unless you want to be running into walls all day -,"

"Is that an option?"

"- then you don't have much of a choice." Lisbon continued on, as if she'd never been interrupted. "And no, that's not an actual option, you dolt. What would Ellie think, watching her Daddy run himself into walls all day?"

Jane, clearly taking that as a challenge, jumped at the opportunity. "Ellie is more likely to believe that I'm performing an obscure experiment to test the density of the walls than that her Daddy is suddenly blind as a bat. Especially since she doesn't know I wear contacts."

Lisbon raised an eyebrow, "What do you have against a five-year-old learning something new about her Daddy?"

"I don't have a problem with her learning something new about me." Jane said, sounding almost offended. "Just not this."

He wasn't so foolish as to believe that such a tiny thing could change a man so entirely... except that it could. Putting on the glasses felt just like donning another mask, and he'd spent far too long attempting to shelter and protect himself from demons that didn't actually exist. Here, with his girls, he could just be _Patrick_. He didn't need to be the cold, analytical... _heartless_ man staring back at him, a man that reminded him too much of his father for comfort.

His father hadn't approved of his relationship with Angela, and if he were still around, he knew he wouldn't approve of Lisbon either. And that was okay - that's how he'd known he'd done right. Teresa Lisbon-Jane was a beautiful, strong, _independent_ woman. Free as the summer breeze, he couldn't control her if he'd tried - and he preferred it that way. Wanted to raise his little girl to be just like her.

Simply put, the man he became when he wore the glasses was no longer _Patrick_ , but _Jane_. They took away his identity and replaced it with something much more sinister. This mutilated self-image came from years of psychological torment at the hands of his father - pain that nobody else should have the burden to bear. _  
_

With a sigh, he slid the glasses off and tucked them away. "Maybe next time." Patrick Jane was not a vain man... but he was also not his father.

* * *

His plan was working beautifully... until Elysia asked him for a story. She'd shuffled over with story book in hand, and had placed it reverently onto Jane's lap. The front cover, bearing the book's title, was little more than a blur of color to him. The little girl had been sick in bed for most of the day, and had been begging her Daddy for a story every time he'd come in to check her fever. He'd promised her a story when her fever went back down under 100 degrees.

The obnoxiously large numbers on the thermometer seemed to mock him: 99.9.

"What's the matter, Daddy?" The little girl rasped as she climbed onto his lap, wondering what was taking her Daddy so long to begin the story. Usually, he'd dive right in, weaving an intricate tale of beautiful princesses and valiant knights, creating unique voices for each of the characters... But tonight, he hesitated.

"Nothing," he grinned, but it didn't quite meet his eyes. "I just think that you should rest a little bit more before -,"

"But you _promised_." Elysia whined, pulling out all the stops on her puppy-dog eyes.

He ran a finger over the highly-glossed page, swallowing hard. Elysia had buried her face in her Daddy's chest, fisting handfuls of his shirt in her tiny hands. Her every breath rattled painfully, and her half-lidded eyes were swollen and red-rimmed. She was absolutely right - he had promised. And Jane had tried so hard to teach her the value of keeping her word. He had no real reason to deny her, aside from the whole not being able to see thing.

Trying to squint at the elegant type only caused his head to begin throbbing, and bringing the book closer to his face didn't help either. The only alternative was to break out the glasses. Fuck. With a sigh, he rose off the bed and strode down the hall, Elysia watching him all the while. He popped into the bathroom, grabbed his eye glass case, and slid the sleek black frames out. Hesitating only a moment, he slipped them on and returned to his daughter's bedroom.

Elysia stared at him for a moment, and he was sure she intended to say something about the sudden addition to her father's face. Instead, she stuck out her bottom lip and pouted, "Is Daddy going to read me my story now?"

Jane couldn't help himself, "You don't notice anything different? Anything... _strange_?"

"No..." she looked at him like he'd suddenly acquired a second head. "Daddy is just... _Daddy."_

Jane's lips twitched into the first hint of a smile, and with a grunt he hefted the tiny girl onto his lap. "Now, I do believe I promised my little princess a story." Elysia clapped, her excitement palpable. "Which one have we picked for tonight?" Now, the jumbled blur of letters cleared... "Beauty and the Beast. A definite classic."

About three pages into the story, Jane began to fiddle with the glasses. He couldn't help it. Since Elysia wasn't making a big deal out of it, he needed to _make it_ into a big deal. Elysia, far wiser than her years, seemed to understand the implication there - "Stop that."

His smile faltered, "Stop what?" There was genuine confusion there - Elysia was known to randomly change the subject in the middle of a conversation.

"Don't mess with them." Elysia put her hand on the side of Jane's glasses, forcibly holding them in place. Jane, surprised, allowed his hand to fall. Once she was sure he wouldn't move again, Elysia continued, "They help Daddy. Leave them be."

Jane felt his heart stutter in his chest. It never ceased to amaze him just how brilliant his little girl truly was. Just as observant as her father, she could see right through him and all his insecurities. And in that moment, she'd laid them bare in that plain, simple way that only a child could. Not only that, but she'd told him, in her own childish way, that it was _okay_. Whether he never touched the glasses again or had to wear them every day for the rest of his life, she'd love him still.

There was something so pure and unadulterated about a child's love, something about the simple way that she'd taken hold of Jane's glasses that had done so much more than Lisbon's gentle prodding ever could. He felt tears well in his eyes and they fell, hot and fast, before he could even attempt to stop them. No matter who he saw reflected back in the mirror when he wore those dreaded glasses, to his little girl he would always be Daddy.

And that was the best role that he ever played.

"Why is Daddy crying?" Elysia asked, incredibly concerned.

But Jane just shook his head, "No reason, princess. You just helped me see something I should've realized a long time ago." He hugged her a little tighter, her tiny head knocking his glasses askew... and he found that he didn't care. "You know that I love you, right?"

Elysia nodded, "I love you too, Daddy." And then, after a beat, "Story?"

Jane found himself laughing through the tears, "Yeah, its storytime." Stretching the book over both their laps, he began, "There once was a very rich merchant, who had six children: three sons and three daughters. His daughters were extremely handsome, especially the youngest..."


End file.
